The Last Time
by MahliaLily
Summary: Rory met his eyes in challenge. "Whenever we're faced with a choice, I choose you, and you choose to leave." Future Lit One-Parter


**The Last Time**

**_A/N_**_: Dedicated to Ali, who gave me the inspiration, and with thanks to Maroon 5 whose song "Sunday Morning" inspired Ali to inspire me. Enjoy! ~Becka_

Thunder crashed outside, splitting the air with a loud crack. Rory slowly opened her eyes and looked around the room, trying to adjust to the darkness that surrounded her. Lightning flashed, and she caught a glimpse of Jess's sleeping form beside her. He looked uncharacteristically innocent, almost angelic with his dark hair lying in disheveled curls against his forehead. Knowing better, Rory smiled and inched out from beneath the covers. When her bare feet hit the cold, wooden floor, she shivered. Craving the warmth of the blankets again, she hurriedly tiptoed across the room.

Jess opened his eyes and watched his girlfriend scuttle across the floor. Twice, lightning flashes allowed him to more clearly see her shadowy outline. Her pink pajama shorts hung low on her hips, and her tank top was a tad too small, allowing him to see a flash of the pale skin at her waist. The storm winds were blowing in through the window, causing her shoulder-length hair to fly about her as she got closer to it. She looked beautiful.

"What are you doing?" he called, shifting to his side so he could see her better.

She jumped a little and looked towards the bed. "Shutting the window."

"Why?" 

"It's raining."

"So?"

"So it's coming in the window," she explained.

"Leave it."

"It's getting everything wet."

"I like the way it sounds," he stated, closing his eyes.

"You'll still be able to hear it."

"Come here."

"Jess," she protested.

He opened his eyes again. "Come here and listen." The way he was looking at her – the way he looked – was irresistible. She didn't stand a chance.

She looked worriedly at the window, then back at him. "Fine," she sighed.

She hurried over, and he pulled back the covers, so she could sneak beneath them. She shivered again, the warmth of the blankets not enough to counteract the chill of the storm. She snuggled closer to him, and he wrapped his arms around her, rubbing his hands up and down her back to warm her up. She sighed contently and closed her eyes. He did the same, and together, they listened to the gentle pitter-patter of the raindrops and the loud clamor of the occasional thunderclaps.

"I love late-night thunderstorms," Rory whispered. She was so close to him that her breath tickled his bare chest when she spoke. He pulled back a little and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. She smiled and nuzzled even closer. "This is nice."

He didn't answer, but she could tell by the way he tightened his arms around her that he felt the same way.

After a few minutes of lying quietly in each other's arms, Rory spoke. "Jess?"

"Yeah," he mumbled back.

"My books are under the window."

He chuckled a little. He'd known she wasn't completely relaxed. He'd just been wondering how long it'd take her to fess up to it.

She elbowed him in the side. "It's not funny. They're probably getting all wet."

"Then they'll be famous like Shelley's copy of Aeschylus."

"That's only famous because he drowned with it."

"Well, then go over there and sit with them, so they'll be famous too."

"Jess, c'mon."

He opened his eyes and saw her pleading look. He smirked. "Go save them if you're so worried."

"But it's cold out there," she complained.

"Fine. Leave 'em."

"Jess…"

He sighed. "I'm going."

"Thank you," she said gratefully, leaning up to kiss his chin as he scooted out of bed. She shifted around to watch him as he hurried over to the window. Instead of closing it, however, he just moved the books onto her desk. She rolled her eyes and turned back around.

Jess glanced at the stack of books and, spotting one, grabbed it and rushed back over to the bed. As he climbed back in, he slyly reached under the bed and stuffed it into his suitcase.

He shifted back into a comfortable position, and, in the process, his cold foot brushed against Rory's ankle.

"Hey, brr," she complained, jerking her leg away. "You're like a human popsicle."

"It's your fault," he reminded her. 

"You're the one who refuses to shut the window," she retorted.

"Complain, complain," he teased.

She stuck out her tongue, and he grabbed one of her legs in retaliation and pulled it towards him. His hands were almost as cold as his feet.

"Cold! Cold!" she whined, trying to jerk away.

He grinned evilly and ran his hands up and down the back of her leg, sending a large shiver down her spine. 

"You're the spawn of Satan, I swear to God," Rory declared, wiggling under his touch.

He smirked. "I'm not going to argue with that."

She gave up and pretended to pout.

"Fine," he conceded. He shifted towards her and sandwiched her leg protectively between his own pajama-clad limbs, providing warm relief from his torture. Satisfied, she moved forward and molded her frame to his, leaving little, if any, room between their bodies.

"You know, most guys don't go for clingy girls," he joked, amused by how thoroughly she'd plastered her body against his.

"You love it, and you know it," she replied, looking up at him under hooded eyes.

He wrapped his ankle around hers to prove her point, and she smiled.

"Warm enough now?" she asked.

"For now."

She kissed the small area where his clavicle formed a 'u' and shifted even closer. She could feel his heart beating evenly in his chest, synchronized perfectly with hers. She focused her attention on it for a while, loving the way it felt – loving the way he felt – so strong and safe beside her. After awhile, his breathing started to even out, and she knew he was drifting asleep. She wanted him to stay.

"Which book did you take?" she whispered, pulling him back to reality.

"What?" he asked sleepily.

"Don't deny it. I saw you."

"Can't I sleep?"

"No."

He narrowed his eyes at her.

"C'mon," she chided playfully. "Which book?"

He sighed and disentangled himself from her before rolling onto his back. Without looking, he reached his hand over the side of the bed and rummaged around in the suitcase below. Finding the book, he wrapped his hand around it and scooted back from the edge of the bed. He held it up.

She waited for a lightning flash then peered at the title: _The Art of the Tale_. "Hey," she protested, snatching it from his hands. "You can't have this! I just got it!"

"I think I should get it since you refuse to let me sleep," he complained.

She looked at him and saw his somewhat serious expression. "You really want to sleep?" she asked, hurt.

"I have a long drive tomorrow."

"But if you go to sleep, it'll be tomorrow, and you'll have to leave."

He sighed. "I know."

"If you need to sleep, you should sleep," she stated, her sadness causing the words to fall thickly off her tongue.

He met her eyes. "I don't want to sleep."

She nodded and turned to the book, flicking absently through its pages. He kept his eyes fixed on her, trying to make sure she was okay.

"You can have the book," she said quietly, "under one condition."

"Rory, I can't—" he began.

"Read one to me," she finished, not allowing him to say what she didn't want to hear. She handed the book to him.

He took it but continued to watch her. When she finally looked at him, he could tell that she was still upset. "Are you going to read one?" she asked quietly.

He sighed, turned on the bedside lamp, and flipped through the book. That must have been the right thing to do because she scooted around and tucked herself into his side, letting her head rest into the crook of his shoulder. He glanced at her and took her hand in his, guiding it until her arm rested against his chest. "This one looks bizarre," he said, referring to one of the stories.

She smiled a little, and he began to read.

_'I can let you have one of my arms for the night,' said the girl. She took off her right arm at the shoulder and, with her left hand, laid it on my knee. _

_'Thank you.' I looked at my knee. The warmth of the arm came through._

_'I'll put the ring on. To remind you that it's mine.' She smiled and raised her left arm to my chest. 'Please.'_

As Jess softly read the story, Rory let the pain of his imminent departure recede. At least, for the moment.

***

Jess finished the story and awkwardly shifted so he could set the book on the bedside table without disturbing Rory's position.

"Why would anyone want to carry a severed arm around?" she asked, trying to figure out the story.

Jess looked down at her arm and hand, resting gently against his skin. "I'd carry your arm around."

She looked up at him, a smile threatening to curl her lips. "Are you trying to be romantic?" she teased.

"Maybe," he teased back.

"Go on," she encouraged in a tone that reminded Jess just how much like her mother she could be.

He took her hand in his and turned it from side to side, as if examining it. "You have these perfect fingernails," he stated. "I never noticed it before."

Rory giggled. "You aren't very good at this."

"Hey! I'm being serious here."

She gave him a skeptical look. "You are?"

He raised her arm and gently placed a kiss on the pulse point of her wrist. "I'm trying," he whispered.

He almost had her; she felt herself melting. But then, abruptly, she jerked her arm away. "I'm not falling for your dirty tricks again," she stated firmly, a hint of mischief in her voice.

"Excuse me?"

"This is just like Scrabble last night. I was winning until you cheated."

"I didn't cheat!" he protested.

"Right," Rory disagreed, eyeing the board.

He glanced in the direction of the board as well. "I was just using my letters."

"Sentences aren't allowed."

"Ah, but they should be."

"You are _such_ a cheater," Rory argued, rolling onto her stomach. She propped her elbows on the bed and looked at him.

"It wasn't even worth that many points."

"But you forced me to forfeit."

Jess smirked. "I didn't force you to do anything. You seemed fine with it."

"I demand a rematch."

"Fine."

"No sentences allowed!" Rory added.

"Whatever."

"Say it."

Jess looked at her and folded his arms over his chest. "Nope."

"Say it."

"Na-uh!"

"Say it, or we don't play."

He gave in. "Okay, fine, I love you."

Rory rolled her eyes. "That's not what I meant."

"I thought you wanted me to say the sentence."

"You mean, the _cheating_ sentence?"

"I love you."

"See, there you go, cheating… _again_."

Jess adopted a serious expression, his eyes meeting hers and his voice conveying nothing but complete sincerity. "I love you."

Rory's eyes flickered to his lips, and she couldn't resist smiling. "You _always_ cheat."

"We're not even playing yet," he reminded her.

"Aren't we?" she asked playfully. She reached up and guided his lips to meet hers. After the briefest of kisses, she pulled away. "I like it when you cheat," she whispered.

He grinned. "Funny 'cuz most women don't feel that way.

She ran her fingertips across his jaw. "You know what I meant."

"Yeah?"

She lifted herself up and shifted to rest her body fully on top of his. "Yeah," she stated, bringing their lips together again.

As they kissed, he moved his hands between their bodies until he found the drawstring at her waist. Giving him another quick kiss, she lifted up slightly, so he could undo the tie. Her eyes met his, and he smirked. "I kinda like it when I cheat too," he teased, sliding the shorts down her legs.

"Kinda?" she repeated, eyebrows raised. 

Giving up on banter, he trailed his hands slowly up her body and along her neck until they rested on either side of her face. He kissed her deeply while her hands danced down to his waist, seeking the strings of his pajama bottoms.

***

Jess leaned over and kissed the tip of Rory's nose, his hands brushing back the sweat-dampened strands of hair that clung to her face. In return, she reached up and tangled her fingers in his hair before pulling him to her in a kiss that radiated through every inch of her body.

When they finally separated, he smiled and drew her close. "Can I sleep now?" he asked softly, his eyes lazily shutting before she could answer.

This time, she let him sleep. She listened to his steady breathing. Memorized the way his eyelids fluttered when he dreamed. She watched him and prayed that the sun wouldn't come up. The world outside the window continued to storm, and as Jess slept, the tears streaming down her cheeks picked up speed until they matched the paths of the raindrops on the windowpane. She didn't want him to leave.

***

The rain continued, and theoretically, the sun didn't come up. It wasn't visible to the human eye. But morning came nonetheless. Rory had drifted asleep long after Jess, and she was already awake when he yawned and rubbed his hands over his eyes. Remembering the night before, he smiled and looked at her. All he saw was sadness.

"Hey," he whispered.

She folded her arms over her chest. "Hey."

"What's wrong?"

"I don't want you to leave," she said matter-of-factly, refusing to make eye contact.

"Rory, you know I have to—"

"No, you _don't_."

"I have responsibilities there. I can't just up and leave."

"You _can_. You just won't."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You always leave."

"I have a job there. Even if I wanted to…"

"Exactly. You don't _want_ to."

"That's not what I meant."

Rory's eyes shot to his face. "What did you mean?"

"I just meant," he began, trying to come up with something to say. This wasn't how the conversation was supposed to go. They didn't even need to argue about this. He'd already made his decision. This was arguing simply for the sake of arguing. He just needed to tell her. Ask her.

"Maybe we should just stop."

"What?" he asked, confused.  

She sighed. "Long-distance relationships are hard. We gave it our best try, but…"

"Rory, you're being ridiculous."

"I'm being rational."

Jess chuckled derisively. "You always like to think you're being rational, but I don't really think you've ever had a rational moment in your life."

Rory looked at him in amazement. "Wow. That's just–"

"Rory, c'mon, what are we doing?"

"Breaking up."

"Like hell we are."

"I've given you so many opportunities, Jess. You've had chances. But you always leave."

"I always come back."

"Yeah, when it's convenient for you. When I'm about to make a decision that might eliminate you from my life. Do you have a radar or something? It tells you when I'm about to be happy without you, and you rush on over?"

"What?"

"Sookie's wedding. You came back when I was planning to choose Dean. You came back, and you ruined everything. And I chose you, and you left. Things got hard and complicated, and you ran to California."

"I came back."

"For two seconds to tell me you loved me."

"Are you saying I shouldn't have?"

"I'm saying that I was getting my life together. I was finally moving on, and you came back. And then you left."

"And I came back," Jess repeated.

"Right when I thought I'd found someone else," Rory continued, throwing accusations his direction. "I could have been happy. He loved me. And you came back, and you explained everything. And you were you. And I still loved you, so I chose you. And then you left… again."

"I stayed the whole summer."

"And when September rolled around, you _left._"

"What is this, Rory?" Jess asked, clearly baffled to be hearing all of this now.

Rory met his eyes in challenge. "Whenever we're faced with a choice, I choose you, and you choose to leave."

"That's bull."

"Oh, so you don't live in California?"

"Yes, but…"

"You'd rather love me from a safe distance. It's easier. I get it."

"I don't exactly see you packing up your things to be closer to me," Jess argued.

"It's not that easy. I have family here."

"I have family _there_," Jess yelled.

Rory shook her head. "Luke is here."

"This is ridiculous," Jess mumbled. He was beginning to doubt everything he'd believed about their relationship. Maybe he'd been wrong. About her. About them. "I have to take a shower," he said mechanically, rising from the bed.

Rory wanted to say something to stop him, but she didn't. She just let him go. She should have done it years ago.

***

She stood by the window, watching the rain drop into the puddles that had formed on the street overnight. Last night seemed like a million years ago. She wrapped her arms around herself protectively. After a few minutes, she heard the shower turn off, and moments after that, the bathroom door opened. But she didn't turn to look at him. She couldn't. If he was leaving, if this was it, she just wanted him to go. She wasn't going to stop him. 

She waited patiently for the sound of him getting dressed. What she didn't expect was to feel him approach. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. He smelled wonderful – the scent of fresh soap mingled with the spicy fragrance of his aftershave. She closed her eyes and breathed it in, trying to store the moment with the rest of her memories of him. If this was the last time, she needed something to hang onto – to remember.

He leaned forward and rested his chin on her shoulder. "I'm an ass," he whispered simply, his breath prickling her skin. She sighed and halfheartedly shrugged her shoulders. He kissed the curve of her neck. "I'm sorry."

"I just always miss you."

"I'm not gone yet."

A tear carved a hot path down her cheek. "I know."

He moved around her and rested against the windowsill, only wearing a towel wrapped around his waist. He met her eyes with his and brushed the tear from her cheek. "I'm coming back."

"I know."

"I may leave, but I always come back." He wiped away another stray tear. "God, ever since that stupid party back in high school, I promised myself I'd never make you cry."

Rory thought back to all the fights they'd had since. All the times he'd come and left. "That hasn't really worked for you," she bitterly replied.

He sighed and ran a hand through his wet hair. "I'll get it right eventually."

"It's my fault," she said resignedly. "I've tried and tried, but I just can't make myself stop."

"Stop what?" he asked, searching her face.

She met his eyes. "Loving you."

"Maybe you aren't supposed to."

Rory sighed and moved out of his grasp. "You should go."

"I'm not going to leave when you're upset."

"Then you can't leave."

"Rory…"

She walked towards the bathroom. "Just go."

"What if I told you this time is different."

She hesitated. Without turning around, she said quietly, "You'd be lying."

"Rory…"

"Call me when you get back to California."

"Jesus, this is ridiculous," he said, walking over to his suitcase.

She mistook that as a sign that he was leaving, so she entered the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

He was rifling through his suitcase for something when he heard the lock click into place. Finding it at last, he pulled out the tiny box he'd been saving all weekend, waiting for the right moment. This wasn't exactly it, but it'd have to do. He set the box on the dresser and pulled on his clothes. When she still didn't emerge, he packed his suitcase and sloppily combed his fingers through his hair. He glanced around the room, searching for anything he might've left behind. He waited and waited. But she didn't come out. Even though he knew this time things _were_ different, he still had responsibilities in California. And a long drive to get there. He couldn't wait forever.

Ten minutes later, when she still didn't appear, the front door clicked shut, and he was gone.

As soon as she heard him leave, Rory hurried out of the bathroom, tears now falling freely from her eyes. She pulled the robe more tightly around her waist and rushed over to the window, just in time to see his car pull away from the curb and head down the street.

The finality of the car's departure ripped through her, and she sat on the bed, numb. She couldn't deal with this. Not now. Needing a distraction, she walked over to the Scrabble game. She grabbed the velvet letter bag and reached out to remove the pieces from the board. Her eyes fell on his 'cheating' words of the night before. "I love you." She read them over several times before she noticed the additional letters branching up from the 'e.' She trailed her eyes up to read the new word. Then, disbelieving, she wound her gaze back down again. Confused, she glanced around the room. After a moment, she realized she still held the velvet bag in her hand. All of the letters were still on the board or spread out beside it, but the bag felt heavy. She shook it slightly; those definitely weren't loose letters inside. Curious, she drew open the strings and dumped the contents onto the table. A small box tumbled out. She reached for it with trembling hands and flipped open the lid. A gold band with the tiniest but most exquisite of diamonds at its center sparkled back at her. Her eyes darted back to the words he'd left on the board. "Marry me."

With tears welling in her eyes, she snapped the box shut again and rushed to the phone. She dialed frantically and, seconds later, when she heard his voice, she shouted, "Yes!"

With one hand on the steering wheel and one hand gripping the cell phone, Jess smiled and listened to Rory's excited ramblings as he drove back to California for the last time.


End file.
